Unwelcome Reminder
by Bonomania
Summary: The day should be special, happy, but it's not. Sometimes it's hard to forget when people just keep pushing it. House/Wilson close friendship. And others, but I don't want to give the game away. A/N inside. Give it a go, you know you want to...
1. Avoidance

**A/N: I am Bonomania and I am here to try and entertain you XD I wrote this fic partially because of a bunny that pounded me into submission and partially because of an LJ fic prompt. I would tell you what the prompt was, but it'd ruin the whole thing...but it was suggested by 'pwcorgigirl.'  
Sorry if the opening chapter seems short, but it's hard to tell how long they're are gonna be until I upload them. This should be about 5 chapters long. Stick with me on this one, it'll be worth it in the end. This is unbeta'd, so please let me know if anything is majorly wrong. No spoilers. Blah blah blah. **

Disclaimer: I do not own House. I own nothing but the laptop I use and abuse all day long.

**Lastly, enjoy! **

**Part One: Avoidance**

Fishing through piles of House's mail, _most of it's junk_, Cameron thought. This wasn't the reason she took the fellowship, this certainly wasn't the reason she went to medical school. _I spent half my life, _all_ my money training for this and he's got me sorting post. _She could feel herself getting frustrated – bitter, almost. As she ripped clumsily through the next envelope, her eyes narrowed as she read the words. Big. Bold. The kisses at the bottom she did not expect until she glanced at the final, parting phrase, 'love mom and dad.' And suddenly, her bitterness was gone – after all, she couldn't be annoyed at House forever, especially on his birthday.

*

10.30am. House was stomping down the corridor towards his office when he was accosted by Wilson, who quickly pulled him out of view of his team in the differential room. Luckily, they didn't seem to notice.

"Wilson, what the hell? Sexual harassment is serious you know, just ask Cuddy," House said playfully.

"Sorry, but believe me, this is for your own good," Wilson said, keeping House against the wall, "I've been waiting for you all morning."

House's face immediately crinkled, sending a mock-quizzical look in Wilson's direction, "You're not gonna kiss me, are you?"

"House, I could easily let this go and not tell you anything –"

"But you're not going to. You wouldn't have been waiting outside the door of your office for what I can only imagine to be the best part of an _hour_ if what you're going to say isn't important."

Wilson, only just noticing how close they were standing, took a step backwards, giving House a bit more room as he tried to explain. He rested his hands on his hips, tilting his head to the side slightly before launching into his first lecture of the day.

"I knew torturing Cameron by making her sort your mail would come back and bite you in the ass –"

"Come on, Jimmy. Just spit it out, I'm late."

"You're always late. You were already over an hour late when you managed to drag yourself in this morning. Two more minutes won't make a difference."

"Well, if that's everything…" House manoeuvred his cane, trying to push Wilson aside so he could leave. _Why does it always take so long for Wilson to get to the point?_

"Okay, okay." Wilson put his hands up in a look of defeat before guiding House away from his office again. "Cameron knows about your birthday."

House leaned back against the wall, rolling his eyes, tipping his head back and muttering 'damn it' under his breath.

Wilson continued, "You got a card from your mom. Guess she realised you spend most of your time here…"

"So, Cameron knows which means, by now, everyone knows." House sighed.

"I know how much you hate a fuss…and that you don't know how to take compliments…or embarrassment –"

"Are you going anywhere with this?"

"I just figured it'd be better if you knew in advance. Y'know, prepare for it."

House looked up from the ground, his blue eyes meeting Wilson's chocolate orbs for a brief moment, before he ducked away into his office. Eye contact – House's way of saying thanks. Wilson never expected anything more.

*

"Five year old kid. Seizures, headaches and a droopy eye."

There are many aspects of House's life he doesn't want to face or even to think about. As usual, work always acted as the perfect method of avoidance. However, things change, especially when work and _life_ unfortunately merge.

Cameron chirped up, "House, happy birthday!" Her smile was nauseating. House could have sworn that, had it not been for Cameron's insistence on spreading a sickening amount of joy to the world, Chase and Foreman wouldn't have said a word.

"Yeah… er…happy birthday," they both said in unison.

House did indeed look uncomfortable, but he was expecting it thanks to Wilson, he just needed to initiate a change of subject.

"Okay, now back to our patient –"

"Why didn't you tell us?" Cameron's face was still an impenetrable wall of happiness, something that further irritated House.

"Dr Cameron…small child…_dying_…" He waited and continued when she didn't respond, "Sorry, I thought that'd appeal to your sticky, marshmallow heart. My mistake. Guess you're going cold," House drew his fingers to his mouth, mock horrified, "don't think I can handle heartless-bitch-Cameron."

Finally, she shut up, lost the grin and they managed to carry on the differential – House trying desperately not to let it show how much the birthday card, the one that Cameron had so shrewdly displayed on the table, was actually bothering him.

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Hope this was a good start and that you'll keep with me. Next chapter up in a day or two hopefully.

Please R&R if you can spare me the time and I will give you a virtual hug. XD


	2. Nurse Nimrod

**Part Two: Nurse Nimrod **

For once, House was actually looking forward to clinic duty; at least his patients wouldn't know it was his birthday. A couple of hours without hearing those two words – that was all he needed. A couple of hours to replenish his diminished store of sarcasm and wit – then perhaps he could forget about it and kid himself into thinking it was just a normal Wednesday at PPTH.

As he entered the clinic, his plan was to simply grab and run – perhaps he'd rethink the running part later (although, with a cane as a weapon, who needs to run?).

A list of profanities flew through his mind as he saw who was on the desk – Nurse Brehnen.

Most people in the hospital had heard of House, but most had never met him. They didn't know him, didn't _get_ him, but Nurse Brehnen was on a planet of her own. She'd try absolutely anything to make conversation with him and he'd always do one of two things; humour her or insult her and walk away. Her response was _never_ dependent on which option House chose; he could scream every hurtful thing he had in his head at her and she'd just smile sweetly, chuckle and say 'bye Dr House.' _Idiot._

What made it worse; House knew that Nurse Brehnen and Dr Cameron were on speaking terms and every morning they'd find time to gossip and over a coffee. _Fantastic_. He braced himself for the inevitable as he strode towards the desk.

Nurse Brehnen's eyes widened considerably when she spied him.

"Dr House –"

"Don't say it!" he ordered, trying to hurry past her as fast as his cane would swing.

"Dr Cameron told me." She ran frantically from behind the desk as House snatched a file from the tray and tried to make a hasty exit into exam room two. "Happy Birthday Dr House!" she screeched across the clinic.

He stopped dead in his tracks and turned his head back towards the now shrinking nurse, with eyes like wild fire. For the first time, it seemed she had got the hint as she back-tracked, hiding herself behind the desk once again. House couldn't help feeling a sense of achievement at finally succeeding in getting through to her. This sense of achievement, however, was quickly replaced by dread at the realisation that the entire clinic, patients and all, now knew it was his birthday. _This is gonna be a long couple of hours._

*

The roof. For so many, the idea of being stranded on a roof – no boundaries, no safety – would be distressing, but for House, the roof provided an escape, a sanctuary, you might even call it a comfort (something normal people got from a warm sofa and a light-hearted TV show). This place was his very own Narnia – sans the mythical creatures and giant, talking lions (depending on how many Vicodin happened to be flowing through his system at the time).

After two and a half hours of possibly the most excruciating stint of clinic duty he'd ever had to endure, this was the only place he wanted to be. As he pushed open the door to the roof, he paused, taking in the glowing amber sky, pink at the edges. _A beautiful evening_, House thought, _shame the day was like chewing sand. _

He limped to the ledge, resting his cane against the wall, and simply stood there, absorbing the sounds of passing cars, loud horns, the wind in the trees, anything that drifted through the air. For once, he was thankful for the lack of silence; now he could lose himself in background noise, grateful that his brain was focused on something _other _than _this_ day and all the demons it held.

*

"You paged me?" Wilson said, swinging his head around Cuddy's office door.

At first he thought she hadn't heard him; her eyes never once strayed from the papers in front of her and her hand kept scribbling.

_Ah. She's busy…maybe I should come back later…no, wait…_she_ paged _me_ – must've been for a reason. _

Wilson always hated being interrupted in the middle of paperwork, but with a friend like House, it was something he had to get used to. Surely Cuddy must be used to this by now. Sighing to himself, he stepped into her office, quietly shutting the door behind him.

*click*

"Oh, Wilson. Sorry, I didn't even see you."

"Er, you paged me?"

Cuddy got up from her desk and walked around it, standing in front of Wilson. "It's about House."

"As if it would be anything else," Wilson joked, "what has he done now?"

"…Nothing actually. I've barely seen him all day," Cuddy said, a slight not of concern creeping into her voice, "I saw him, briefly, a couple of hours ago…I think he was on his way down to the clinic. He looked…agitated." Wilson looked as though he was about to say something, so Cuddy quickly cut him off, "_More_ so than usual. I know he hates the clinic, but it wasn't the usual _I'm miserable because evil Cuddy is making me do my job_ kind of agitated. He seemed sort of…tense…or…edgy for want of a better word."

"I saw him this morning. That was it. I assumed he was busy with a case…" He stopped. His look was one of contemplation.

Cuddy looked at Wilson like she was pleading with him to come up with an answer, a reason for House's look of agitation. She searched for reassurance in his eyes, but found none.

"I mean, I didn't even get a chance to tease him about his birthday," she added, trying to lighten the mood.

Wilson bit his lip. He knew that House hated his birthday, but he'd never really got a straight answer as to why. _Maybe it's nothing to do with his birthday, _Wilson pondered, but he knew he was only making excuses. He could sense an awkward conversation between himself and House needed to be had…and House wouldn't like it one bit.

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**(A/N: I forgot to say, the sequel to Guilt Is A Bizarre Thing - House's talking cane fic - will be up shortly, I'm just having a few problems working out where I want it to go XD) ...that's if any of you read it anyway haha.  
**


	3. The Search for House

**Part Three: The Search for House **

By 4.30pm, Wilson was beginning to grow more concerned that he hadn't seen his friend around in hours.

"Have any of you seen House?" Wilson asked House's team, poking his head around the glass door of the differential room.

"Not since this morning," Cameron chirped up.

"No patient?"

Chase cut in, "We _did_. Then we fixed him. House probably went home."

Wilson grunted to himself and walked back out into the corridor, deciding to call House's apartment.

No answer.

He then tried House's cell.

It rang. No answer. He tried again. It rang twice before a robotic voice ground out, "Your call has been diverted to voicemail." _House rejected my call? What the hell?_

Worry getting the better of him, Wilson strode out into the car park in search of his car. _He's probably asleep on his couch in his apartment and pissed at me for keeping on calling him,_ Wilson thought, _but it doesn't hurt to make sure. _But on his way out to his car, he noticed House's bike was still parked outside the hospital.

_He's still here._

And so Wilson's mission to find House began. He searched the coma patients' rooms, the vegetative state peoples' rooms, the nurse's lounge and every empty room he could find, but no sign of House. No one had even seen him. Then Wilson remembered the one place House used to go to be away from everybody and think.

The door swung open to reveal House leaning against the wall and looking off into the distance, seemingly lost in his own musings. He had his back to Wilson and didn't move an inch. The only thing that showed any sign of life was the way the tail part of his suit jacket fluttered in the breeze.

"House?" Wilson watched as House physically tensed up hearing his voice.

"Wilson." House acknowledged his friend, but didn't turn to face him.

Wilson knew he had to tread carefully, "So…how's it going?"

Immediately House's eyes whipped round to meet Wilson's, glaring at him as if to say _I know what you're doing and I'm fine_.

"Sorry," Wilson said, "But I had to ask. I mean, the last time you came here was after Stacy…y'know…left again." Wilson's gaze dropped to the floor, not sure whether the subject of Stacy was still a sore spot for House. Both he and House had always made a point of _not _bringing it up unless it was absolutely necessary.

House was uncharacteristically silent.

"Y'know, Cuddy's looking for you," Wilson tried.

"Oh, I know. She _wants_ a piece of _this_," he scoffed, turning his body to face Wilson and pointing to himself, but his voice lacked the power and sarcastic tone it usually had. "I'm trying to save her the humiliation of me turning her down," House said with a smirk.

Wilson smiled. And then did something very stupid. Perhaps it was because bantering with House came so naturally to him, but what he initially thought was an innocent question, eventually blew up in his face.

"So…had a nice birthday?" Wilson quickly withdrew his smile and inwardly berated himself for bringing up the birthday topic so early in the conversation. _He'll tell you when he's ready. You always do this. You force it and then he gets angry and it's your own fault._

"Don't _you_ start," House began, his smirk now an angry frown.

"Oh, come on. Who doesn't like birthdays?"

Sighing and grabbing his cane, House headed for the roof door. Briefly, he stopped next to Wilson, staring at the ground. "I'll be glad when this day is over," he almost whispered before leaving the roof.

Slightly confused by House's parting words, Wilson continued to stand alone on the roof, hands on his hips and head in a muddle.

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**A/N: Sorry for the short chapter guys; this one's a little bit of a filler, though I think it holds _some_ purpose. Just means the next one should (hopefully) be up quicker XD.  
As always, reviews are appreciated - shows I'm doing _something_ right!  
**


	4. MiddleAged Boy

**Part Four: Middle-Aged Boy**

By the time House made it back to his apartment, it was gone 6pm. Pulling up on his bike, he noticed the car parked out front. He immediately groaned as he recognised the old mustang. The car doors opened and the two passengers got out.

"Greg!" his mom said with a smile as she scuttled over to him. He removed his helmet and she pulled him down to her level to place a kiss on his cheek. "Happy Birthday, son."

"Greg," another voice grunted, acknowledging him. His dad locked the car and nodded at his son.

"Dad."

Still standing next to the steps up to his apartment, House returned his attention to his mom and asked as innocently as his voice would let him, "What are you doing here? It's so late."

"We've been waiting outside your apartment for the best part of an hour for you to show –"

"Well, I apologise for keeping you waiting while I was saving someone's life," House remarked sarcastically. They didn't need to know the best part of his day was spent treating kids with runny noses…

"Please don't start you two," Blythe pleaded.

Both men grumbled something under their breath, but otherwise said nothing else.

"We're on our way to visit some friends at a condo in Reno. So, I told your father we should take a detour and come visit you on your birthday. It took us a lot longer to get here than we thought; there was a pile up on the freeway…anyway." Blythe clocked the uneasy look on her son's face and continued, "Don't panic, we've booked into a hotel, we won't be staying here. Just thought we'd pop in on the way. _Can_ we come in?"

"Oh, yeah. Yes, sorry mom," House replied, having completely forgotten they were still outside.

When they got inside, he offered hot drinks, but his dad went straight to the fridge for a beer. He made his mom coffee, grabbed a beer himself, and sat down on his piano stall as they made themselves comfy on the couch. There was silence as they sipped their drinks. House's dad, John was the first to break the silence.

"Thought you might be out with _people_ tonight, celebrating," he said, laughing immediately afterwards. His idea of a joke.

_Always did know how to kick me when I was down,_ House thought.

Blythe glared at John, but there was no regret in his eyes. As usual.

"Wilson's coming over later," House said, staring into his beer bottle, "beer, take-out and trash TV." John openly sneered.

"How _is_ James?" Blythe asked, her smile and manner sweet like honey.

"He's good. Wife number three didn't work out, but…y'know Jimmy."

House immediately looked up from his beer as he heard his dad mutter something.

"What was that?" he questioned, shooting a look dead into John's eyes.

"I said, 'maybe he's spending too much time with _you_.'"

And so the conversation looped; Blythe asking a question, House answering it and John metaphorically spitting on his son's answer.

After about an hour of tense conversation, John suggested that they should leave if House was expecting company. House knew this was just his dad's excuse to get out of there.

Having kissed his mom goodbye and said good riddance to his dad, House closed his apartment door and melted into the couch, feeling worse than he had done all day. He didn't realise it was even possible.

Outside in the car, just before pulling away from the curb, Blythe sighed, picking up two empty water bottles from under her feet. "Oh, John, we were going to get Greg to fill these up."

"Let's just leave it. We can buy some more at the hotel." But Blythe wasn't having it.

"John, you know how much they charge for bottled water at those places. Just pop back in and fill them up, I'm sure he won't mind."

Puffing through his nose, John reluctantly grabbed the bottles and, leaving Blythe in the car, knocked on House's front door again.

"Unless you've got Chinese and beers, you're not coming in Wilson," House teased as he hobbled to the door.

"Your mother forgot to fill these," was all his dad could say, before forcing his way in. As his dad began filling the bottle at the tap, everything else was silent, until House spoke up.

"Why did you come here?" His voice was quiet and dark.

"Your mother's idea," John said, before scoffing and continuing, "Certainly not mine." The next few moments were silent again as John turned off the taps and just stood at the sink, not saying a word. "You _really _think I would want to spend _this_ day with you, knowing what you did?" John spat, his words _biting_ and uncaring. He turned to face House, "Celebrating the day _Greg_ tried to –"

"Shut up!" House exploded, punching his cane into the ground.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, boy!"

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm _not_ a _boy_ anymore!" House stepped towards his dad and said in a low, slow voice, "You. Can't. Push. Me. Around!"

In a matter of seconds, House found himself on the floor, as John's fist collided with his nose and knocked him totally off balance. House shook his head, trying to regain his vision before locking eyes with his dad. Both pairs of eyes were filled with anger and House could feel himself physically shaking. As his dad towered over him, House made a grab for his cane, to get himself up.

"No!" his dad exclaimed, kicking the cane clean from House's reach. "Stand like a man!"

But House didn't. He sat there, his eyes downcast. He felt a warm stream of blood trickling from his nose and over his lips and tried to wipe it away with his hand.

"Just get out," House said, his voice almost a whisper.

"So, you're _not a boy anymore,_ huh? You're certainly not a _man._ It's pathetic."

"I said get out!" House yelled, feeling betrayed as his voice noticeably shook.

Without saying another word, John snatched the two full water bottles from the sink and left, slamming the apartment door hard on his way out.

As much as House wanted to get up and tend to his bloodied nose, his whole body was like jelly, trembling and weak. Instead, he mopped at the blood still oozing into his mouth with the back of his hand and pinched the bridge of his nose. His apartment was quiet and empty, both of which meant time dragged on more so than usual. So, he sat, waiting for his anger to dissipate, resigned to the fact his day wouldn't be ending as quickly as he'd hoped.

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**Next chapter up soon. I lied when I said there'd be 5...there will actually be 6, so you'll have to put up with me for a little longer. As usual, reviews are love and I am open to all kinds of criticism...as long as it's put delicately haha! XD Anywho...I'm off to watch the new episode online. WAHAY!**


	5. I'm OK By Myself Just Watch Me

**Part Five: I'm OK By Myself. Just Watch Me. **

"House? You in there?"

Wilson had been knocking and knocking…and knocking, but House didn't seem to notice. He hadn't moved from that spot on the floor and, though it wasn't pouring anymore, his nose still dripped blood onto his jeans and shirt. He couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop closing his eyes and picturing his fifteenth birthday. _That_ birthday. The birthday that tainted all other birthdays.

As a last resort, though he didn't like to use it, Wilson let himself in with his own key, his eyes widening as he saw the state of House. He quickly set the beers and boxes of Chinese down on the coffee table and rushed over to his friend.

"What did you _do_?" The concern in Wilson's voice was almost overwhelming.

Only _then_ did House snap out of it and realise Wilson was even in his apartment.

"House? Can you hear me?"

With that, House painfully crinkled his nose in annoyance and swatted at Wilson's frantic hands.

"Yes, I can hear you. I'm fine. Just…get me my cane, will you?" House was barely making eye contact, a tell-tale sign to Wilson, that everything was _not_ indeed _fine_.

Wilson passed House his cane and instinctively went to help him up.

"Just –" House protested, holding up his hand, telling Wilson to keep his distance.

"Okay, okay." Wilson backed off, perturbed by his friend's heightened defensive behaviour.

House pushed himself off the floor with one hand, the other hand trying to balance himself with his cane. He'd just about reached kneeling position when, as he expected, his leg gave from under him. Without thinking, Wilson was at his side in seconds, taking hold of House's elbow in an attempt to steady him.

"I can do it!" House's eyes were meant to be one of warning as they locked with Wilson. But Wilson could read House, and what he saw was not so much a warning as a look of anger, frustration and sadness all melted together. Wilson stepped to the side, giving his friend the space he obviously needed, but also scrutinizing him, watching his face. He assumed House had forgotten about his nose as he watched two small drops fall from his chin.

Watching House was excruciating. Wilson saw he was obviously hurt, but he wasn't accepting anything.

_What's he trying to prove? _Wilson wondered as he watched.

House managed to balance himself, without putting any weight on his right leg, with the aid of his cane. He pushed down and painfully made it into standing position, uncurling his right leg and placing his foot lightly on the ground. After standing there for a minute, staring at the ground and evening out his breaths, he turned and walked unsteadily to the kitchen taps, soaking some kitchen towel and wiping the blood from his face. Wilson was silent, standing in the kitchen doorway, waiting for an explanation.

Soon, when House didn't say anything and continued to have his back to him, Wilson had to say something.

"So?" Wilson prompted.

"So _what?_"

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

There was a pause and then House sighed.

"Nothing happened," he said, turning to face Wilson, "just had a run in with the floor. They've happened before, they'll happen again. Comes with the bum leg." He then stalked past Wilson, avoiding his eyes, and went to sit on the couch.

House grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, staring blankly at the screen, but Wilson could tell he wasn't paying attention to it. He had two frown lines evident between his eyes and was clearly biting his mouth shut. Wilson couldn't believe that House expected him to drop it and carry on as though nothing had happened.

As quickly as House had switched it on, Wilson tore the remote from his grip and turned it off again. He sat on the couch, facing his friend who was happier for his eyes to remain on the black TV screen.

"What about your nose?"

"Nose bleed, that's all."

"House! Have you seen yourself? You've got what I can only assume to be the beginnings of a black eye! What happened?" Wilson urged again.

"Can you just drop it?" House snapped, finally turning to look at his friend.

"What, you want me to pretend I didn't come over and find my friend in a bloodied heap on the floor?"

"You're exaggerating."

"Oh, stop it. Stop…acting like it's nothing when it's obviously _not_ nothing!" Wilson wasn't shouting, but he gesticulated wildly as the words came out in force.

A hybrid of fear and anger were now swelling inside House as he realised he might not be able to avoid this conversation. One last option remained; walk away and hope Wilson does too.

_That's an awful plan,_ he thought, but he knew he had to try it anyway – if only so he could say that he tried _all_ methods of avoidance.

House stood from the couch and went to turn towards his bedroom as an intense spasm caught him by surprise. He always hated it when they crept up on him. Feeling the leg tighten, he swayed unsteadily, leaning heavily on the couch. Wilson saw nothing of House's face, but knew what was happening by the way House's knuckles whitened over the handle of his cane.

"House, please, sit down." Wilson's tone was softer.

After a few moments, House visibly relaxed a little and reluctantly came back to sit on the couch.

He inwardly berated himself, _well done Mr Cripple. Guess I'm really _not_ getting out of this. _

Subconsciously rubbing his thigh, House breathed loudly but slowly through his nose.

"Where are your pills?" Wilson said, looking around the room and spying them on top of his friend's piano, "Do want me to get them?"

"No," House said, perhaps a little too loudly. Stroking his thumb across his forehead, he continued, "It-it's fine. I don't need them."

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**A/N: FINAL CHAPTER WILL BE UP SOOOON! Eeeeep!  
I'm looking over it now...worrying about it :S But still, hope you enjoyed this chapter. **


	6. Open Gates and Pizza

**A/N: Okay guys, this is it. I hope you all enjoy the final chapter (and don't find any of it too OOC - I'm sticking to my guns, it could happen...maybe). I would like to thank everyone who has stuck with this and reviewed etc etc. You make me feel special. I owe you a cookie of some sort... **

**Anyway, enjoy and HAPPY DAYS XD**

**Part Six: Open Gates and Pizza**

"It-it's fine. I don't need them."

_Did I just hear right? Okay, something has _definitely_ happened. _

"What is _with_ you today?"

"You! You're what's with me! You and everyone else at that hospital. I just wanted to spend the day like a normal person spends every other day, but _no_, that wasn't good enough for everyone else. They had to try and make it something it's not."

"_Normal_ people don't spend their birthdays bleeding all over the carpet," Wilson retorted, a small, almost apologetic smile on his face.

House smirked at Wilson's retort, but although his anger had wilted, his face was wracked with a certain vulnerability Wilson had only seen once around the time of the infarction. Searching his shy eyes, Wilson noticed they were full to the brim with frustration and what looked suspiciously like defeat.

A stillness washed over the room. The only sounds were those of the two men breathing. Neither man moved; Wilson, because he didn't want to disturb House – who was obviously deep in thought – and House, because he was being weighed down and glued to the couch _by_ those thoughts.

"My parents came." Yes. Defeat it was. House even surprised himself as he broke the silence.

"Before I got here?" Wilson asked.

House nodded. Wilson's expression morphed from serious to one of understanding in seconds as it dawned on him how House ended up with his injuries. It was no secret that House and his dad didn't get on, but the reason behind it was one thing that Wilson had never pushed House to admit.

"Mom was in the car; otherwise he wouldn't have done it." House was now fiddling with his cane, body arched forward on the couch. "I told him I wasn't a kid anymore. Told him he couldn't treat me like it either. I should've expected it really. Outsmarting him comes at a price," House laughed bitterly, a wave unhappiness emanating from him. It was all Wilson could do _not_ to pull him close and tell him everything was okay. "Fists always were his way. That and making me feel like shit."

House continued staring down at his cane as Wilson asked the one question he was dreading answering.

"What did he say?"

_Everybody lies_, House thought, _but Jimmy knows me too well for that._

"I…He…" House stopped, now biting his bottom lip. He didn't know where to start. He didn't know how much he wanted to say. He just didn't know. "He said…he basically said that there was no way in hell he'd willingly spend today with his pathetic cripple of a son…If it wasn't for my mom, he'd have rather pretended I didn't exist." House turned his head out of Wilson's view, trying to bite back an unwelcome flood that was threatening to spill. It took all of Wilson's strength to hide his anger at how John had treated his son. This, in Wilson's eyes, was abuse.

Wilson took a deep breath and said as soft as he could, "I know you two never got on well, but it's your birthday…" When House said nothing, he pushed harder, "What's wrong with your birthday?"

Wilson watched as House tried to hide the fact he was wiping his shirt sleeve across his face and as House turned back to face his friend, Wilson immediately noticed the red blotches around his eyes and the tears still teetering on the edge by his lashes.

"Jimmy, I did something…when I was younger. It was stupid…well, not at the time. At the time I thought it was the only…what I'm trying to say is…"

Wilson's heart fractured more and more every time House faltered. _Only family_ _can do this to someone._

"House." Wilson's voice was gentle. He nodded in a way that said _it's okay, go ahead._

"My dad was on leave for two months, so he'd be in the house most of the time and we'd constantly be getting under each others feet. I'd stopped off at the library on the way home from school. Obviously, being in the marines, he was strict on punctuality, so when I didn't get home 'til late, he…had something to say about it. Before he could lay into me, I remember running to my room. I actually remember _willing_ myself to run faster. I had two old medical journals in my hand that I was desperately trying to hide, but he caught me."

Wilson's eyes were fixed on House, listening. It was like one of House's defensive walls had, not necessarily been torn down, but rather fitted with a window through which Wilson could observe.

"He practically dragged me away from my bed. He was already mad that I was late, so my stupid secrecy on made it worse…He searched under the bed, I assume he thought it was porn or something. Who knows? Looking back, I kind of wish it _was_ porn. He started pulling everything out from under there; boxes, books…come to mention it, I think there must've been a porno mag or two. I could see him getting angrier as he started pulling out stacks and stacks of medical journals. He didn't get it – and that infuriated him. I remember his exact words. 'Boy, what the hell is this all about?!' So I had to tell him. I told him that I didn't want to be a marine. That wasn't me. I said, 'I wanna be a doctor. I wanna fix people.' It's in my head like it all happened yesterday. He started yelling; telling me I'd join the marines if I knew what was good for me. And he tore up some of the journals. Made _me_ tear the rest of them to shreds. He said, 'You are signing up, you are gonna be a marine and you will not argue that. I didn't bring you up to be a disrespectful little bastard.' And then I earned myself a dislocated jaw when I told him…when I told him he didn't bring me up at all. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last."

House paused and turned towards Wilson, as though to gauge his reaction. He quickly turned his attention back to his cane when he saw the look of sadness on Wilson's face. He knew he had to finish explaining, but he was afraid that if he looked at Wilson again, he might be too overwhelmed. Swallowing, he continued.

"I don't regret saying what I said. It was true. But he…oh, he _made_ me regret it every day for the next month. It got to the point that all I had to do was move and he'd find a way to punish me, a new method of humiliation. Sometimes it was only words, sometimes he'd hit me square in the face and start yelling these things at me; saying I'm a disappointment, I could never be the son he wanted, I'd never be...I'd never be a man, not in his eyes. Then, one day, it all got too much. Nothing seemed worth it anymore. I ached, I hurt and…he found me in the morning, said I still had a lot to learn and I knew what he meant. It was an ice bath and God I hated those. Then he went out walking. He was out for hours."

Wilson watched sympathetically as House ran a shaky hand through his hair.

"I don't know what it was; whether it was the bath or what, but something pushed me just that little bit too hard. It was one of the worst days of my life. That day, my fifteenth birthday…I did a stupid thing. I took my dad's car and wrapped it round a tree –"

"_That's _why he –"

"On purpose."

Wilson's breath hitched and, though he didn't know if it was the realisation of how awful his friend's childhood was or the fact that House was willingly opening up to him, he found himself welling up.

"House, I'm sorry…I-I didn't realise it was that bad."

Wilson shifted closer to House, watching him lose the fight against his own tears. For a while, House said nothing, simply stared vacantly at the far wall. Wilson didn't take his focus off House. He saw everything; the stray tears that managed to escape, the of House's chest as he tried to breathe. It only just hit him, the realisation that Wilson may never see him the same way again. It wasn't a secret that he hated being pitied; he just hoped that Wilson knew him well enough to treat him the same. It was asking a lot, he knew, for Wilson to just pretend he didn't know anything, but he trusted his friend – trusted him to do the right thing.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Wilson was startled by House's sudden movement.

"Yeah, well…that was a long time ago."

He rose from the couch and limped into the kitchen. Searching the fridge, House pulled out two bottles of beer and then made his way back to the couch. Bemused by House's sudden change of mood, Wilson gingerly took the bottle from his friend, opened it and sat back in the cushions. House sat on the edge, looking into his beer.

"Some of us had the strength to get over it, some of us didn't."

House leaned back on the couch and sighed before taking a sip of his beer. The corners of his mouth curled upwards as he laughed slightly under his breath. He didn't look happy, not by a long shot, but Wilson would've said he'd look contented – if it wasn't for the dark blue bruise under his eye.

"It's not my place to say, House, but after what I just heard, you're more of a man than he'll ever be." Wilson said it so casually, but it was so sincere. He knew House wouldn't say anything, _couldn't_ say anything, this kind of moment was never something he could handle. A glint of uncertainty was present in House's expression as his chewed on his bottom lip, but when he nodded, took Wilson's hand and squeezed it tightly, Wilson revelled in the fact that he'd obviously said the right thing.

_He's been through enough tonight, _Wilson thought as House released his hand.

"Chinese is cold," House pointed out.

This was House's way of telling Wilson that their conversation was over. No more seriousness, no more uncomfortable silences. No more. And Wilson understood.

"You order in some pizza, I just gotta go get something from my car," Wilson said, placing his beer down and handing House the phone. "And yes, I'll pay," he added, and then mumbled, "like you didn't already assume."

As House ran off the list of toppings for the pizza, Wilson fumbled around in the boot of his car, pulling out a small box wrapped in shiny paper. He'd purposely not bought the paper with 'happy birthday' plastered all over it. Now he was even gladder he hadn't.

Wilson sat back down on the couch next to House and pulled the box out from behind his back, dropping it in House's lap.

"What's this?"

"It's a…sorry-for-being-so-pushy…present," Wilson smiled softly as House rolled his eyes.

After tearing the wrapping off, House turned towards Wilson, wanting to say something, but the words just would come out. Guitar strings. A new set, good quality, pure nickel. In a word – perfect. House was always amazed at how Wilson seemed to find the perfect present every year. He opened his mouth and closed it again just as quick. As usual, Wilson saved him.

"They're for your old Fender. It's been sitting there, broken and wallowing for months; thought you could fix it up, give it some attention. Maybe you'll make it happy."

House didn't miss the smirk on Wilson's face, nor could he help the smile developing on his own.

End.


End file.
